Warning: MAJOR SPOILAGE FOR HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE
(A/N: My first foray into the HP fandom for awhile, I knew this book would bring me back. Anyway, basically this is a short one-shot about Snape's thoughts at the end of the 6th book. Once again, MAJOR SPOILERS.)
No One's Side But My Own
Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better to have died that night in the Shrieking Shack, torn apart by Lupin's fangs. Certainly, it would have saved me, and many others, a lot of trouble. As for the good it would take out of the world…what good? What have I ever done in my life that amounted to anything of use? Nothing.
I thought that the years of killing were over, that I could finally change things. What a foolish notion. Nothing changes. Not for me. I can't even escape the names: Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Longbottom, Potter.
Everyday, I wake to that curse on my arm, the Mark of the Dark Lord, taunting me with what I've done. What I will do. What I have to do. Everyday, I try to ignore its implications. And everyday, I fail.
My failure has never been so prominent as it is this night. No, never have I done anything remotely close to this. Tonight, I killed Albus Dumbledore.
I killed him.
There was no way around it, none. It was his life or mine. And I have never been the self-sacrificing type. I try to comfort myself, saying he had lived a full and prosperous life, but nothing helps. There is no excuse. After everything he did for me, I should never have been able to raise the wand, to speak those two most deadly of words.
Granted, there have been times when I was angry with him, hated him even. The ceaseless torment while I was at school, the cover-up of my attempted murder, the years of waiting for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. But even in my wildest rages, I never would have foreseen this day.
I don't know what I'm going to do now. Perhaps I should just go to the elaborate funeral that inevitably is already being planned, allow everyone their revenge. Certainly that might be more merciful than this. But I do not deserve mercy. The best I can hope for now is for Potter or one of the Order to find me, maybe they'll even take a moment to listen to anything I have to say. Maybe I might be able to attempt to explain. Or not. It really is meaningless, excuses for being on no one's side but my own.
What does this mean for the world? I don't know. Maybe a little, maybe a lot. It could even be a turning point, though for whom I certainly won't fathom to guess. Every time the "side of good" seems to be crushed, it rises again, with Potter at the forefront. That boy has more luck than anyone I have ever known, even without the use of Felix Felicis. It may be enough to win this war.
I hope it is.